Work Text:
Life is a struggle, and Dahyun is struggling.
The one thing she never struggles with? Dragging heavy bags of groceries up three flights of stairs. But oh, how she desperately wishes she could experience it at least once in her life, like people with a stable income do. It seems like a nice, short-term problem to have, being able to afford to go on a grocery run that ends with a cart full of supplies, and a few trips back and forth from the car to the house to get all the groceries inside.
Honestly, the problems she would exchange at the drop of a hat to have that one. Because her irregular grocery trips almost never warrant needing more than two bags, and she always buys the same supplies there isn’t even a need for a list anymore. A loaf of bread, a carton of milk, seven packs of instant noodles, and a large box of the cheapest cereal brand. Then, on the rare occasion Dahyun lucks out on a gig and her employer isn’t stingy, she could afford to indulge in a box of choco pies and one bar of chocolate.
Most times though, she doesn’t manage to luck out.
This day is one of those times.
“Here’s your pay.”
Dahyun had just barely stepped away from the piano when her employer, a woman in her mid-forties, thrusts an envelope into her hands. Abrupt and no-nonsense, like every other adult who reached out to her to play the piano for an hour or two. Because hiring a broke and struggling pianist fresh out of college is much cheaper than gunning for a professional pianist with years of experience under the belt.
Despite the lack of warmth from the woman, Dahyun doesn’t complain and bows down. “Thank you, ma’am.”
As with her previous gigs, Dahyun leaves as soon as she receives the money, but not without a takeout container filled with food from the catering service packed securely and stowed away inside her backpack. Staying would be a waste of time, anyway, when she doesn’t know a single soul at the party.
On her way out of the ballroom, Dahyun makes a detour to the bathroom where she empties the contents of the crumpled envelope onto her palm. She flips through the folded bills, mumbling the amount while she does the addition inside her head, and comes to a grand (small) total of…
71,100 won.
Dahyun purses her lips. Well, at least her employer this time was gracious enough to add one-hundred won to their agreed price of 70,000. In total, it’s at least 5,100 won more than the last one she took the job before, so she guesses she really doesn’t have any right to complain.
Careful not to wrinkle or tear any of the bills, Dahyun slides the stack back inside the envelope, then tucks it away inside the secret pocket found behind her fanny pack and makes a swift exit out the bathroom and the venue. With a tired sigh, Dahyun swings her legs over her somewhat rickety but trustworthy bicycle and rides away into the cold, quiet darkness of the night.
On her way back to her apartment, Dahyun spots a nearby supermarket and decides to make a quick pit stop to replenish her supplies. She chains her bike by the storefront, and though doubtful anyone would try to steal it given its sorry state, it still never hurts to be careful.
She cups her gloved hands over her mouth, blowing hot air into them because the once thick material of her gloves has frayed and thinned down significantly, barely managing to keep her hands warm on chilly autumn evenings like this. Soon. She’ll get a new pair as soon as she earns enough money for it.
But until then, she’ll have to hold off on her chocolate fix.
Like always, Dahyun doesn’t bother taking her time going through all the aisles. She grabs whatever she needs, crams them inside the basket, and pays at the cashier. She might be broke, but she isn’t a shoplifter.
Her bicycle is waiting right where she left it, and Dahyun stuffs her bags of groceries into the basket attached to the front, then unchains her bicycle and pedals as fast as she can on her way home. The last thing she wants to happen is be exposed to the cold longer than she should and potentially get sick, so she pedals as fast as her legs would allow her to.
Everything about Dahyun’s day has been normal the way every single day has. Nothing is different, her routine simple and unbothered.
It does get kind of lonely though, coming home to an empty apartment without anyone waiting for her. Or anyone to wait for.
That is, until she reaches the hallway leading to her unit, and Dahyun finds the one next to hers with its door ajar and a few boxes stacked outside in a neat manner.
Dahyun blinks repeatedly, just to make sure the stress of managing her finances—or lack thereof—hasn’t gotten to her to the point where she’s beginning to imagine things. But no matter how many times she blinks, the boxes stay in the same place.
Huh. Apparently, she has a new neighbor.
That’s new. And surprising. And tragic.
Tragic, how someone else must have it as bad as Dahyun to resort to renting a unit in this decrepit building with its chipped paint, cracked walls, creaky floorboards, and a bathroom where it takes at least fifteen minutes for the water in the shower to heat up. With all the cons that come with living in this godforsaken apartment, and the single pro being at least having a roof over her head, Dahyun feels a sharp twinge of sympathy for the poor sap who is now living in the room next to her own.
Enough for her to consider knocking on their door and introduce herself—make them feel warm and welcome despite the shitty living conditions awaiting them. Until her stomach rumbles in protest, craving the proper meal carefully packed and stowed away inside her backpack.
Maybe tomorrow, then—otherwise, Dahyun would only embarrass herself by introducing her empty stomach along with her name.
She spares one last glance at the half-open door, then slips inside her room.
Dahyun’s first encounter with her next-door neighbor is unconventional, to say the least.
She comes home late in the afternoon from her part-time job at a convenience store, dragging her sore feet up the dusty stairway, eager to change out of her uniform and flop belly down on her bed as soon as she gets inside her room. The promise of rest is the one thing she looks forward to the most as she climbs the stairs, but as she reaches the short hallway leading to her unit, Dahyun spots a lone woman standing outside the door right next to her own.
Through squinted eyes, Dahyun studies the woman from afar. Or, as far as the distance of twenty-two steps it takes to reach her apartment unit from the end of the hallway, at least. Soft-looking, fair skin Dahyun is sure would glow beautifully underneath the silver moonlight; shoulder-hair length black hair with side bangs parted to the left; tightly pursed lips and delicate hands wrung together in unease.
Then it clicks. This woman must be her new neighbor.
Her new neighbor who seems to be in quite the pickle, that is.
Well, maybe now is the perfect time to introduce herself.
“Miss? Can I help you?”
Dahyun’s sudden entrance startles the woman into rushing out a gasp, looking like a deer caught in headlights with her full, wide eyes as she swiftly turns in Dahyun’s direction. And nothing, absolutely nothing could have prevented the electric shock that runs through Dahyun’s veins caused by none other than this lovely, heavenly being who lights up the dingy hallway with her presence much better than the dim lightbulbs affixed on the ceiling.
Dahyun is starting to think she might be the one who’ll be needing some help around here.
The woman gnaws on her lower lip, her troubled, hesitant gaze flitting back and forth between Dahyun and her door. Dahyun watches her closely, waiting for an answer which doesn’t seem would be coming soon. Though there are only three reasons Dahyun can think of as to why the woman has been hanging around outside her apartment instead of being inside like she should.
One, her neighbor forgot her keys inside when she left that morning; thus, unfortunately locking herself out.
Two, the doorknob is broken and won’t budge no matter how hard her neighbor tries to twist it open.
Or, three—
“Uhm, there was this cockroach on the wall when I opened the door,” the woman explains softly, her scarlet cheeks giving away her embarrassment.
—there’s an insect or terrifying critter of some sort inside the apartment.
Yup. Dahyun figured as much.
Her neighbor blushes harder after voicing out her problem to a complete stranger; so, to spare her from any further embarrassment over her very real predicament, Dahyun decides not to dwell on it and instead offers what she thinks is a much needed helping hand. She can see why her neighbor would be far too frightened to enter her room, though. With such a tiny space available, there isn’t exactly much room for the cockroach, or any bug or insect for that matter, to move around in. They’ll be there within line of sight no matter where anyone looks, whether they like it or not.
“Do you have an insect spray?” Dahyun asks.
The tiniest of frowns appears on the woman’s face, yet even then, the crease on her forehead doesn’t dim her glow.
“I used up the last of it before I moved out of my last apartment,” the woman mumbles.
“Would you mind if I went in and got rid of it for you?”
The woman’s eyes widen like saucers, a flash of unmistakable relief crossing her lovely face for a split second before morphing back into hesitation. “Oh, you don’t have to do that! I’d hate to be a bother just because of a cockroach.”
If it weren’t for the slight grimace the woman makes, Dahyun might have been convinced that she really can handle her insect problem on her own.
Dahyun shrugs and scratches at her cheek. “It’s fine, really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Dahyun assures her with a confident nod.
Despite her initial hesitance to accept a complete stranger’s offer to take care of the horrifying pest crawling around her apartment, the woman appears to be more relieved and grateful for it.
“Okay,” the woman accepts Dahyun’s offer and tries to push the door open. “Sorry, let me just—”
Dahyun waits patiently while her neighbor tries to open her door with no success. After a few unsuccessful attempts, the woman huffs and pushes harder at the door which just won’t budge.
“May I?” Dahyun offers, stepping in to help.
The woman sighs and backs away, giving Dahyun her silent permission. Dahyun twists the doorknob while at the same time giving the door a firm push, and it gives way by swinging open with a slight groan she’s already used to hearing.
“There’s a little trick to opening the doors around this building,” Dahyun explains, as she opens the door wider. “You just have to twist the doorknob and push at the same time, and it’ll give way. Just don’t be too rough, or the hinges will break and the door will come crashing down. That’s what happened to the guy who used to live there.”
Dahyun jerks her thumb at the door three ways down from her neighbor’s, remembering the thunderous crash that traveled down the hallways and pierced through the thin walls as a result of the mishap. She even thought it was because of an earthquake, until she ran out of her apartment and found the splinters littering the hallway.
“Oh. That’s… unfortunate,” the woman says with a frown.
“It sure was. Do you want to wait out here while I take care of it? I promise I won’t steal anything, but you can check my pockets when I’m done, just in case.”
Dahyun turns her pockets inside out for added insurance—partly to reassure her neighbor, partly to get her to crack a smile—and earns more than what she bargained for. Because instead of a smile, the woman giggles, light and airy and pretty and nothing like the ugly shade of green paint peeling off the walls of the hallway.
“I’ll wait here,” the woman decides, her lovely smile lingering on her lips, giving Dahyun’s bleak life meaning again.
Well, as much meaning as getting rid of an ugly insect for a pretty girl can give her, at least.
With her pockets still turned inside out, Dahyun rushes inside the cramped apartment and switches on the lights, focusing on finding the roach than studying the interior. She spots the little pest on the tiny kitchen wall, and, with slow, stealthy steps, grabs the old newspaper sitting on the dining table and rolls it tight.
Then, without an ounce of hesitation, she swings the rolled-up newspaper down on the cockroach, the sharp, cracking sound piercing through the air. She sweeps the roach into the dustpan and quickly tosses it along with the newspaper into the trash can, cleans the wall with disinfectant, and makes sure there aren’t others lying in wait to terrorize her neighbor before rushing back out.
Without any of her neighbor’s belongings inside her turned-out pockets, of course.
The look on her neighbor’s face is priceless, as though she could hardly believe Dahyun accomplished such a feat in less than five minutes. Dahyun has to wonder just how long she waited around outside in the slim hope of being rescued, or how much longer she would have stood there had Dahyun gone home much later.
Her neighbor voices out her astonishment. “You already got rid of it?”
“Yup,” Dahyun pops out, unfazed. “I checked around inside, too. Fortunately, it didn’t have backup so you’re safe to go in.”
“You’re a godsend,” her neighbor breathes out, more relieved than ever thanks to Dahyun’s free extermination service.
Hmm. Maybe she should get a job as an exterminator. It should give her a slightly more stable source of income if she did.
Dahyun chases the idea away before she manages to convince herself to push through with it, and laughs a little. Funny, because here she was thinking moments ago that her neighbor was the godsend.
“Not really,” Dahyun says modestly. “I’m just trying to be a good neighbor.”
“Well, you are.” Another smile is flashed at Dahyun, and maybe her knees turn to jelly after being subjected to it more than once in the span of a few minutes. “Thank you, uhm…”
It takes a few seconds of them maintaining shy eye contact before Dahyun realizes she hasn’t properly introduced herself, and that the way her new neighbor trails off might mean that she’s expecting Dahyun to give her name. Dahyun blinks repeatedly to snap herself out of her stupor, and when she’s sure her tongue has regained its full function, she finally manages to answer the unspoken question.
“Dahyun. Kim Dahyun.”
And Dahyun honest-to-goodness swears her neighbor’s eyes light up over learning the name of the stranger who lives right next door. She kind of gets it—it’s pretty lonely living alone without knowing who her neighbor is. That and she hasn’t had one in the past few months, either. Not when they go as quickly as they come that she eventually stopped bothering trying to befriend them.
“Mina. Myoui Mina,” the woman introduces herself in return, gums starting to peek cutely through her lips as her smile widens. “Thank you, Dahyun.”
Something about the way her name rolls so sweetly off of Mina’s tongue, like a pleasant spring breeze drifting by with the fragrance of flowers in its wake, easily coaxes Dahyun out of her lonely shell. Much as she wants to retreat back inside, just in case Mina could be another of the many that come and go in the blink of an eye, Dahyun finds herself powerless to resist the lovely smile aimed at her.
“You’re, uhm, you’re welcome,” Dahyun stammers a little, and wow she needs to hold it together.
Myoui Mina, seemingly every bit the heaven-sent angel that she looks like, doesn’t tease Dahyun for her stuttering, and bows down politely. Dahyun bows down, too, a good night sitting at the tip of her tongue, but Mina beats her to it.
“Good night, Dahyun.”
Despite the sudden dryness in her throat, Dahyun manages to croak out an answer.
“Good night, Mina.”
There’s at least a second more of bashful eye contact that lingers afterward, which Dahyun is sure would have been prolonged were it not for the loud, clattering noise coming from the room at the far end of the hallway. Dahyun grimaces. That neighbor of hers always was a bit too clumsy for their own good, and they couldn’t have picked a worse time to bump into whatever it is they knocked over by accident.
With the spell and the silence broken, Mina offers Dahyun another shy smile and retreats into her room, gently closing the door behind her. The click of the lock on Mina’s end pulls Dahyun back to the surface, with it drawing out the breath Dahyun hadn’t realized she’d been holding since Mina bid her good night.
When she lays in her twin-size bed later that night with her threadbare blanket pulled to her chin, the blotches on her ceiling start to look like galaxies instead of being the water stains that they are.
----------
Mondays are terrible.
If Dahyun could afford it, she would let the so-called Monday Sickness hit her on occasion. But she can’t. A day off work means a few thousand won going down the drain, meaning playing hooky simply isn’t an option if she wants to survive.
So, even though gravity seems to be working twice as hard that morning to push her back into bed, Dahyun fights like hell through the heaviness and untangles her limbs from her thinning blanket. It being a dismal Monday morning, she goes through the sluggish motions of dragging her feet across the rickety floorboards to do her routine.
First is breakfast, where she pours in cereal before milk (because duh, she isn’t a barbarian), then an unreasonably cold shower because heating up water feels too much of a chore, and grabbing her worn out messenger bag from where it sits on her desk chair. All in all, it’s a typical morning for Dahyun, or at least it was, until she’s five steps down the hallway and Mina is calling out to her.
“Dahyun!”
Startled, Dahyun stops dead in her tracks and turns around to find Mina standing outside, wearing an old pair of sweats with her hair done in a messy ponytail. Dahyun sucks in a breath, grip on the strap of her messenger bag tightening, her other hand reaching up to make sure her hair is done neatly.
“Good, you haven’t left yet,” Mina says happily, her smile bright and beaming it makes Dahyun’s Monday morning slightly less terrible. “Here, this is for you.”
Dahyun glances at the plastic container in Mina’s outstretched hands, then back at Mina, and points at herself. “For me? What is it?”
“I made sandwiches,” Mina says, the blush from the previous night returning to color her cheeks. “They’re nothing special, but I wanted to thank you for last night and for welcoming me.”
Nothing special.
Dahyun begs to disagree. To her poor, starving soul, the sandwiches Mina made may as well be a five-course meal from one of Seoul’s fanciest restaurants—the ones that have a breathtaking view of the city from on high. Not that she’s ever been to one of those places, but she can at least imagine what it’s like to afford such a luxury.
Ultimately though, guilt twists at her gut. Because here Mina is, who most likely has it as rough as Dahyun, sacrificing her own rations to show her gratitude for a miniscule favor.
“You didn’t have to,” Dahyun assures Mina. Then, before she could stop herself, she thoughtlessly adds, “That kind of stuff doesn’t bug me anyway.”
Dahyun cringes. Hard. She swears she didn’t do it on purpose, but the pun slipped out like a bad habit that’s hard to kick. But then Mina giggles, actually finds the stupid pun funny it has Dahyun short-circuiting.
Maybe Mondays aren’t so bad, after all. At least, this particular one isn’t.
“I’m sure.” Mina’s giggles subside, yet the sound lingers on the curve of her lips. Her gaze is expectant, the plastic container in her hands waiting to be taken by Dahyun.
Ah, dang it. How can Dahyun refuse the sweet gesture now? Especially after Mina genuinely giggled at her pun.
“Thank you,” Dahyun mumbles shyly as she takes the container. “I’ll have this for lunch.”
“Just try to keep your expectations low,” Mina says with a light laugh.
“I’ll try, but no promises,” Dahyun vows, drawing an ‘x’ above her heart.
Pearly white teeth peek out of Mina’s lips, the ghost of her laugh etched into Dahyun’s brain as they wave each other goodbye.
----------
(She savors each bite of the sandwiches, convinced it would be rude of her to scarf it down as though she hadn’t eaten in days. Mina made three for her—one filled with peanut butter, another with chocolate spread, and one with egg salad. It’s the most Dahyun has eaten in a while, and definitely the nicest lunch she’s had in a while.
On her way home, she buys a new can of insect spray. She makes a remark about how she hopes nothing won’t bug Mina anymore after using it, and Mina giggles a bit louder than she did earlier in the morning.
Not even twenty-four hours have passed since they became acquainted, but Dahyun could already see the seeds of what would soon be a budding relationship being planted on the small space separating their front doors.
And the slight brush of Mina’s hand against hers is the first sprinkle of water that drizzles over the seeds.)
With nothing but absurdly thin walls separating the apartment units from each other, virtually any form of noise could be heard by the neighbors. Strangely though, aside from the weight of Mina’s footsteps against the particularly loose and creaky floorboards, the sound of running water in the shower, and the occasional sizzling of the pan in the mornings and evenings, Dahyun doesn’t hear much from her.
Myoui Mina is as quiet as can be, it seems—so to say that Dahyun is surprised when she hears rock music blasting from Mina’s room one dreary Friday evening is the understatement of the century. She immediately pauses the video she’s been watching of a teenage girl playing Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake on a Steinway & Sons piano, blinking rapidly to try and make sure she isn’t hearing things.
But she hears it loud and clear. The shredding of the guitar, the pounding of the bass, the crashing drum fills—Dahyun hears it all, could even identify the notes being played as the song goes along. But midway through a particularly long guitar solo, the music suddenly stops, and the slight groan of Mina’s door being swung open replaces it.
Soon after, a few tentative knocks on her own door resounds throughout the cramped space, and Dahyun hops out of bed to answer it. And there Mina is, in an oversized shirt and a pair of old gym shorts, hair tied in a messy bun, and her cheeks painted a deep pink.
“I’m sorry,” Mina blurts out, embarrassed and fidgety, her phone clutched in her hands. “My earphones are broken, and I forgot how thin the walls are when I started playing my music. I hope it wasn’t too loud.”
Despite the lightheadedness she feels over having Mina standing at her doorstep, Dahyun manages to get her body functioning enough to at least shake her head and her lips to move to form an answer.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry.”
Mina smiles, relieved. Dahyun understands her though. She herself isn’t the type who likes the idea of bothering other people, so she would’ve knocked on Mina’s door to apologize had their positions been reversed.
She leans against her doorframe, but without putting too much weight in case it might break, and crosses her arms over her chest.
“So, you like rock music?” Dahyun asks.
Mina licks her lips, blushing deeper. “I do. Surprising, right? People tell me all the time I don’t look like the type who listens to heavy rock.”
“A bit, yeah,” Dahyun admits with a chuckle. “But I don’t think it’s weird or anything.”
“You don’t?” Mina looks and sounds genuinely flabbergasted, as though Dahyun is the first person to not think her strange for liking rock music.
Dahyun frowns. People can be so superficial in deciding what a person’s preferences should be by basing it entirely on their looks, and she hates that. So what if someone as shy, quiet, and softly pretty as Mina loves heavy rock and doesn’t have a music library comprised mainly of lo-fi tunes?
“I don’t,” Dahyun says with a shake of the head. “I think liking a vast variety of music is great, actually.”
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Mina observes curiously. “Are you a music major?”
“A broke, struggling pianist who graduated with a degree in music, yes,” Dahyun deadpans, gesturing to her rundown apartment for added effect.
“What a coincidence,” Mina ping pongs back with a smile as faint as the dim fluorescent lights above their heads. “I’m a broke, struggling ballerina who graduated with a major in dance.”
Despite their shared predicament, they both manage to burst into a short fit of laughter. Mina is clever, that Dahyun is certain of, and somewhat of a cynic herself—part and parcel of being a victim of the world’s unfairness to people like them, Dahyun supposes. Birds of the same feather do flock together, and having developed a cynic attitude over years of hopeless positive thinking, Dahyun has an inkling she and Mina wear the same kind of feather.
Hoping to prove her assumption, Dahyun stretches out her hand and chuckles. “Welcome to the club.”
Mina proves it in an instant by shaking Dahyun’s hand without second thought, the light in her eyes brighter than all the lights in this damn apartment building combined. It sparks Dahyun’s tired, detached soul back to life—tethers it safely back somewhere there inside her body.
“So—” Mina begins to say, holding her phone high enough for Dahyun to see the multiple playlists on the screen, “—what kind of music do you listen to?”
Dahyun grins, and leans back against the doorframe. “I was kind of bummed you stopped playing Back In Black.”
Never mind the lights their landlord promised he would replace two months ago, the giddy giggles that erupt out of Mina without so much as a warning could light up the whole darn universe. So what if her parents think her passion for music is useless and won’t get her anywhere? Because it sure as hell got her pretty neighbor all excited and eager over it.
With wide and hopeful eyes, Mina shows Dahyun her extensive rock and roll playlist, no longer as embarrassed and shy as she was when she knocked on Dahyun’s door to apologize.
“Do you want to listen with me?” Mina sounds just as hopeful as she looks, that Dahyun is convinced anyone who would dare think of turning her down would be nothing short of a cold-hearted monster.
Her parents might be cruel and one of the least supportive people to exist, but Dahyun actively tries her best not to take after them. Carrying their last name is painful enough as it is; to carry anything else would be a mistake.
She smiles at Mina and nods.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
----------
(They spend the next hour sitting out in the hallway, exchanging playlists and sharing Dahyun’s miraculously functional earphones to listen to them. Even though they’re the stock earphones that came with her phone and the sound quality is below average, Mina doesn’t complain and just nods her head along to the beat while mouthing out the lyrics. Dahyun finds it cute, and something about the way Mina raises her head every now and then to catch her gaze has Dahyun slowly thinking maybe life isn’t as bad as she makes it out to be.
The hallway is still darker than anyone should be comfortable with, but Mina’s squeal of excitement when she goes through Dahyun’s playlists and finds a whole one dedicated to the most iconic rock bands lifts the veil clouding Dahyun’s eyes.
Mina’s presence is and of itself a blessing—an answered prayer to save Dahyun’s fraying, jaded soul.
Out of gratitude for her answered prayer, Dahyun doesn’t move when Mina’s head falls onto shoulder, the peeling cable of Dahyun’s worn earphones connecting them together.
Yeah, life definitely isn’t as bad as she convinced herself to believe.)
There’s a small, barely-used theater that’s a fifteen-minute ride from Dahyun’s apartment on a bicycle, and the caretaker, an old man with a kind smile and wrinkly eyes, gives her the chance to play the well-loved piano to her heart’s content on weekend evenings. It had been her last hope to get her practices in, as she could rarely ever manage to scrape the needed funds to rent a studio. If the caretaker had turned her away, too, Dahyun isn’t sure if she would still have had the heart to chase after a hopeless, dying dream.
So, there she sits alone on the stage on a rainy Sunday evening, sheet music propped up against the stand, and a glass of lemonade and a plate of biscuits sitting atop the piano, courtesy of the kind, old caretaker who has grown to be fond of Dahyun and her playing. It’s nice, having at least one person who appreciates her talent and doesn’t think her insane for dreaming of being a musician.
It just sucks sometimes that her own parents couldn’t do the same.
Dahyun presses down on a wrong note on accident, derailing the flow and unraveling the entire piece altogether. She flinches at the misplaced note, sharp and piercing and cutting through the air and into her ear in an unsettling way. With a heavy sigh of frustration, she rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, and expels a slow, calming breath.
The dreary weather isn’t helping her souring mood, either; and while she wants to push herself to keep practicing, she knows from experience it wouldn’t amount to anything after being distracted to this extent. She finishes off the rest of the biscuits and chugs down the juice, then slides her sheet music into the envelope which she pushes into her backpack.
After closing the lid over the piano keys, she brings the empty glass and plate to the kitchen at the back of the theater and washes them in the sink, then politely bows and thanks the caretaker before making her exit. But just as she pushes the doors open on her way out, she finds Mina standing outside and about to enter, the hood of her pastel pink parka pulled over Mina’s head to shield herself from the rain.
“Dahyun!” Mina’s face and eyes light up visibly, somehow always happy to see her. “Hi!”
Dahyun’s dour mood ebbs away along with the next flash of lightning, her breath hitching as Mina hops over to give her a hug. Through the scent of rain clinging to Mina’s jacket, Dahyun catches a whiff of cherries on Mina’s blouse, sweet yet not too sweet. Just the right amount of sweetness. Mina’s cheek rubs against the shell of her ear, the closeness and Mina’s clinginess leaving Dahyun weak in the knees.
“Hey,” Dahyun manages to croak out, squeezing Mina a little before pulling back.
“Were you about to leave?” Mina asks, the same hopefulness from when she asked Dahyun if they could listen to some music together coating her pretty voice.
“Uh, yeah. I just finished practicing,” Dahyun answers, intentionally leaving out the part about her earlier frustration.
“Oh.” Disappointment shadows Mina’s face, dimming the light in her smile that, too, pulls down into a slight frown. Dahyun isn’t sure if it’s because she’s about to leave, or because Mina missed the chance to watch her play the piano.
Dahyun runs her tongue along the back of her teeth. If it’s the latter, she’s relieved Mina missed it. “Are you going to practice, too?”
“Hmm? Ah, yes,” Mina says. “I’ve been looking for places I could practice in, but only the caretaker of this place was kind enough to let me in for free.”
“Same here.” Dahyun kicks the toe of her shoe against the wet pavement. “He was also the only one nice enough to welcome me out of all the places I tried going to.”
“It’s a nice coincidence, don’t you think?” Mina asks, stepping around Dahyun to enter the warm, dry safety of the theater. She turns to Dahyun, who has one foot halfway out the door, and smiles. “That we both found this place?”
Dahyun rubs at the back of her neck, the pattering of the rain against the sidewalk no longer as aggravating as it was moments ago, when she sat alone drowning in her own misery. “Yeah, it is.”
Mina glances over Dahyun’s shoulder and at the rain falling in heavy drops of water from the dark sky, then back at Dahyun. “Do you want to stay and watch?”
And there’s that same spark of hope again, injected into Dahyun’s veins with no way out.
She takes the half step back inside the theater, away from the wet pavement and the dry and clean carpet, and into Mina’s gravity. Mina grins, somehow more excited than nervous over her next-door neighbor who would be watching her dance for the first time. Dahyun thinks Mina is amazing for that, because she’s sure she’ll be a nervous, fumbling mess if Mina were to ask to watch her play the piano.
Even more amazing and breathtaking is when Mina takes her by the hand without so much as a single ounce of hesitation, leading Dahyun down the stairs and the center seat of the front row, and drops her parka on Dahyun’s lap. Lights flood the stage, courtesy of the caretaker who smiles gently, encouragingly at Dahyun and Mina, watching over them like a proud grandfather.
Mina is mesmerizing—graceful in the way she leaps and spins and hops across the stage. Dahyun doesn’t know much about ballet, if she does at all, but what she does know is Mina is a lovely ballerina who belongs in a grander, more glorious stage with thousands of people applauding her.
And she would be lying if she said that watching Mina from where she’s seated doesn’t make her want to dream again.
Mina finishes her one-audience performance by sweeping her right foot back and bowing forward, not a hair out of place and a smile on her face as her eyes lock onto Dahyun. The words of praise Dahyun means to say out loud are stuck in her throat, leaving her with nothing else to do but stand and clap for Mina, the sound echoing throughout the small space with no one else’s hands to join her in applause.
Yet, despite the fact that she’s the sole audience, the brilliance of Mina’s smile makes it seem as if Dahyun’s applause is worth thousands of people’.
----------
The rain has stopped by the time Mina finishes practicing, water splashing at their feet as they step over small puddles on the way to the convenience store. Their hands, made warm by being intertwined, are hidden inside the pocket of Dahyun’s hoodie. Mina is bold, playful, flirting her thumb over Dahyun’s knuckles, shifting closer to lean some of her weight against Dahyun.
They untangle fingers only when Mina opens the fridge containing the drinks, and Dahyun shoves her hands back inside her pockets to keep them warm since she doesn’t have Mina’s to hold.
“Do you drink, Dahyun-ah?”
Dahyun thinks back to the single college party she attended, remembering the unpleasant burn of the vodka prickling at her tongue that made her swear she’d never have another drop of alcohol again, and scrunches her nose.
“Uh, I don’t,” she answers.
Mina grins, showing Dahyun the bottle of sparkling grape juice she took out from deep inside the fridge. “What a coincidence—I don’t drink, either.”
Dahyun chuckles, pulls her hand out of her jacket to swipe her thumb against Mina’s taut, cold-flushed cheek, feeling the skin warm as a blush rises to it. It seems Mina’s affectionate nature is beginning to rub off on her, leading Dahyun to brush Mina’s bangs away from her forehead out of growing fondness.
“Do you want to have a drink at my place?” Dahyun asks in a soft murmur.
Mina’s gaze drops down shyly, her lower lip sucked between her teeth as Dahyun cups her cheek.
“Yeah, I do.”
Suddenly, Dahyun has no choice left but to put on rose-colored glasses over her jaded eyes.
----------
They don’t bother with cups, instead passing the bottle back and forth to drink straight from it while they toss questions at each other. Taking one swig means answering a question, and it’s Dahyun’s fourth turn when Mina invades more of her personal space and touches Dahyun’s knee.
Dahyun would be lying if she said it doesn’t drive her crazy, how Mina switches gears from being the shy, polite girl from when they met, to being extra clingy and touchy-feely when she’s in a particularly flirty and affectionate mood. Because it does. Her brain goes all haywire, her stomach does these crazy acrobatic flips, and she feels things.
A lot of things.
Mina makes herself right at home on Dahyun’s lap, cardigan slipping past her shoulders, because of course she’s a cardigan type of girl. Soft, warm, and cozy.
She needs to distract herself with a drink, before she does something incredibly rash and stupid like kiss Mina’s shoulder before fixing her cardigan. So, Dahyun tips the bottle back and leans against the frame of her bed.
Mina doesn’t fix her cardigan.
“What made you want to become a pianist?” Mina questions, her honey-soft voice and innocent gaze like truth serum injected straight into Dahyun’s veins.
“My parents wanted me to learn to play back when I was a kid. You know, bragging rights and that kind of stuff to family and friends,” Dahyun answers, shrugging casually. “Anyway, I don’t think they counted on me liking it so much that I’d want to make a living out of it, but I did. Boy, they sure didn’t feel like letting me play in front of other people after I told them I wanted to have a degree in music.”
She chuckles darkly, remembering how her parents even sold off the piano they’d gotten for her thirteenth birthday, probably believing it would discourage her. Except it didn’t. If anything, it made Dahyun want it even more than she already did at the time—enough to sleep over at a friend’s house to play their family’s piano under the guise of doing schoolwork.
“That’s terrible,” Mina whispers, frowning deeply.
“It is what it is,” Dahyun says with a bitter smile and passes Mina the bottle.
While Mina takes a sip, Dahyun asks, “What made you want to do ballet?”
Mina licks her lips in contemplation, her fingers slipping through the hole of Dahyun’s ripped jeans to stroke at the skin underneath.
“It’s the same as yours,” Mina admits quietly. “My parents cut me off when I snuck behind their backs to accept the scholarship offered to me by my university.”
Dahyun frowns. She would never wish for anyone else to go through the same thing she did, so to learn that Mina is in the same boat breaks her heart. With a wry smile, Mina returns the bottle to Dahyun and sighs, long and heavy.
“Do you regret it? Going against your parents?” Mina whispers.
“Sometimes,” Dahyun confesses. “Especially when I’m struggling to budget paying rent and buying proper food. Times like those, I catch myself thinking that maybe they were right, or maybe I should’ve listened to them.”
“Me, too,” Mina mutters, moving closer to Dahyun, sighing again when Dahyun’s hand finds the small of her back. “I think that a lot.”
Dahyun tries to give the bottle back to Mina, but Mina pushes it back.
“No fair,” Dahyun jokes, trying to lighten the mood. It works, because Mina giggles and acts coy about it.
In the end, Dahyun decides to humor Mina’s growing interest in her by taking another swig.
“How did you practice when they sold your piano?”
Dahyun leans back against the bed and closes her eyes, aware of Mina’s eyes on her. “There was this girl back in senior year of high school—she sings and plays a bit of piano too, and I went to her place as much as I could to prepare for the practical entrance exams. We became close because of that.”
She hasn’t even taken another sip when Mina follows up with another question.
“How close?”
Dahyun hesitates, unsure where to go from this point on. But Mina’s honey-soft voice and innocent curiosity are like a dose of truth serum injected straight to her veins, leaving Dahyun with little to no choice but to tell the full truth in a few words.
“We dated,” Dahyun answers, absentmindedly tapping at her knee. “It lasted throughout the year, but we broke up after graduation. She was going to study overseas and I was going to stay here, so we decided it was for the best.”
Another sip; another query from Mina.
“Did you ever play her to sleep?”
Against her better will, the harmless question forcefully pushes to the forefront of Dahyun’s mind memories of short, bobbed hair splayed across the pillowcase and sleepy smiles as she dozed off to the melody of Dahyun’s playing.
Dahyun isn’t sure why Mina is asking her this—isn’t sure whether she should answer with full honesty again or choose to be vague about it. Maybe it’s the growing affection steadily building between them, or the imaginary flowers connecting their doorsteps together, or the undeniable fact that Mina could be the person she could bare her struggling soul to.
“I have,” Dahyun finally admits, because again, Mina’s pretty voice is somehow more potent than a drop of truth serum. One word spoken, and she’s gone. “Plenty of times.”
She really should give the bottle back to Mina, because it’s only fair she did. But there’s this part of her that keeps wanting to spill more bits and pieces of her past—to show Mina why she is the way she is. Which is why, even with her own burning curiosity to further learn the girl who looks as though she’s on the verge of kissing her, Dahyun relents one more time.
So, with Mina carefully studying her, Dahyun takes another small sip, in case Mina wants her to flesh out the details of the first and only relationship she’s ever been in.
Only for Mina to jump straight to the end, but in reverse.
“Did she love you?”
The oddness with which Mina’s mind works momentarily catches Dahyun off guard.
“Huh?”
“Did she love you, Dahyun-ah?”
If possible, Mina’s voice becomes softer, her lips so close to Dahyun’s face they almost graze her jaw.
Dahyun takes a moment to catch her breath. “She did.”
Mina nods, the ghost of a smile etched on her lips as she regards Dahyun more closely.
“I can see why she did,” she murmurs, further closing the gap between them. “I can see why anyone would. And I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but—” her gaze flickers to Dahyun’s baffled stare, tongue peeking out between her teeth, “—I’m lucky she let you go.”
It’s then that she finally pries the bottle away from Dahyun’s loosened grasp, her expression daring and expectant as she takes a sip, looking Dahyun straight in the eye.
The cards are in her hands now, and Dahyun knows all she has to do is make the right move by asking the right question.
Without flinching away from Mina’s unwavering stare, Dahyun asks, “Why?”
Mina gives her unspoken answer by leaving the bottle forgotten on the floor and presses more of her weight on Dahyun’s lap, settling herself there like a cat with absolutely no intentions of slinking away no matter what its owner does.
And her spoken answer is breathed out against Dahyun’s lips, a mere second before they meet for the first time:
“Because I wouldn’t get to have you like this if she didn’t.”
----------
(Dahyun gives in.
She kisses Mina’s shoulder, trails a path up Mina’s neck with her lips, holds Mina’s hands above her head, completely losing herself in the way Mina’s fingers tangle through her hair. Even though the bottle has long been emptied and forgotten on the floor, Mina has one last question in store for Dahyun.
Through flushed cheeks and soft noises made against Dahyun’s lips, Mina gasps out, “Could you love me, Dahyun-ah?”
Dahyun untangles one of her hands from Mina’s to fix her cardigan. Though worn with age and use, the fabric remains soft to the touch, like Mina’s skin against her fingertips. Mina squeezes Dahyun’s other hand—the one that still holds on to her own—and sucks in her lower lip, waiting for an answer.
Dahyun breathes out slowly, committing to memory Mina’s flushed cheeks, parted lips, wide, affectionate eyes, and the hem of her shirt pinched between Mina’s fingers.
She leans in, ghosts her lips along the shell of Mina’s ear, and whispers, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Mina doesn’t ask one thing more of her after that, and simply pulls Dahyun in for another kiss.)
It starts with a toothbrush.
Then come the rest of the toiletries, a pouch of makeup, a bunch of sleepwear, and finally, a suitcase with basically all of Mina’s belongings. Mina says there’s a leak inside her bathroom, and until the landlord fixes it, she’ll be staying over at Dahyun’s place.
Almost a month has passed since Mina knocked at her door in the middle of the night because the leak won’t let her sleep, and Dahyun is fairly sure a plumber came by to fix it a week ago, but it seems Mina has zero intention of moving back out. Mina has pretty much latched herself to Dahyun the past month, claiming with a pout she won’t be able to sleep without Dahyun spooning her.
So, Mina has practically moved in without them talking about it, which is fine with Dahyun. Mina is a cute roommate to have, with her soft little whines whenever Dahyun untangles their limbs in the mornings to get ready for work.
And, yeah. They became very much a thing after their faux drinking session. They cuddle a lot, which is to say all the time because they won’t fit in Dahyun’s twin-size bed otherwise. The playful side of Mina jumps out sporadically after their faux drinking session, too, which sometimes come in the form of post-its stuck to the most random places in the apartment.
There was even this one time where Mina stuck a sticky note to Dahyun’s forehead, with the word mine and a cute little heart to dot the ‘i’ scribbled in Mina’s pretty handwriting. Mina even took the liberty of changing their nicknames on each other’s phones, because, again, they’re a thing now.
Enough of a thing to cuddle in bed whenever they so please, which is to say, all the time.
Dahyun is on the verge of nodding off completely, her head laying sideways on the pillow with her arms tucked underneath, Mina draped across her back with her chin on Dahyun’s shoulder. Outside the creaky windows Dahyun doesn’t dare open for fear of unintentionally pulling the joints of their hinges, the colors of twilight paint the sky a dusky shade of blue and faint hues of pink. Mina twirls a lock of Dahyun’s hair between her thumb and index finger, then breaks into Dahyun’s sleepy, muddled thoughts with her soft voice.
“Your hair is getting longer,” Mina comments.
Dahyun acknowledges her with a lazy hum, the light, delicate strokes of Mina’s fingers carding through her hair hypnotizing.
“It’s been a while since I last got a haircut,” Dahyun mumbles, low and groggy from the lack of sleep and the comfort only Mina’s touch could bring.
“How long?”
Dahyun closes her eyes and sighs. “A little over a year, I think. It was before I moved here.”
“Haircuts are expensive,” Mina muses, voicing out Dahyun’s thoughts.
“Yeah.” Dahyun yawns, rolling over to lay her head on Mina’s lap. Mina smiles, massaging Dahyun’s forehead with her thumbs. “I can’t afford to get one at the moment, either.”
“What if I cut your hair?”
Dahyun opens her eyes and looks at Mina in surprise. “You know how to?”
Mina shrugs, bashful. “Nothing too fancy, though. Just some trimming and simple layering.”
“That’s fine.” Dahyun runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t need a fancy haircut, anyway.”
“Okay. Let me see if I can find the cape and my scissors.”
So, Dahyun sits on the rickety chair, the snip of Mina’s scissors cutting through her hair muffled by the music playing from Dahyun’s phone. With every inch of hair Mina cuts off, Dahyun’s head feels lighter, and she’s so comfortable she almost dozes off. To fight off the urge to fall asleep on Mina, Dahyun decides to talk to her.
“How did you learn to cut hair?” Dahyun asks.
“There was this cheap salon a few blocks away from an apartment I used to live in, and the owner offered to teach me so I could earn money to scrape by,” Mina answers, sectioning another part of Dahyun’s hair.
“Yeah? That was kind of them.”
Mina clips Dahyun’s hair and hums in agreement. “It was. She even teased me that I should find a girlfriend whose hair I could cut.”
“Oh?” Dahyun grins. “And have you? Cut a girlfriend’s hair, I mean?”
“No,” Mina says with a shy laugh, her fingers idling through Dahyun’s hair. “Not until now.”
Dahyun tilts her head back, grin crooked and toothy. “Lucky me, then.”
Mina giggles and leans forward, touching Dahyun’s jaw, then kisses her forehead. “You sure are. Now sit still so I can finish.”
That’s what Mina says, at least, but her words don’t match her actions. Rather than focusing entirely on cutting Dahyun’s hair, she plays with it by twirling the strands around her index finger, but Dahyun doesn’t complain. She’d have to be pretty crazy to complain, especially when Mina lightly massaging her scalp feels so nice.
She really could get used to living with Mina.
----------
(“Play something for me?”
Mina asks softly, sleepily, her eyelids drooping cutely as Dahyun turns her attention to her. She lies sprawled out across the bed, her chin propped up against Dahyun’s thigh, arms wrapped snugly around Dahyun’s midsection. They’ve been in the exact same position for nearly an hour, with Dahyun sitting with her back against the short headboard and Mina stubbornly clinging onto her the entire time.
Not that Dahyun minds. Truth be told, she finds the additional weight and body heat comforting.
Without thinking, Dahyun reaches out to stroke Mina’s hair, chuckling under her breath when Mina bumps her head against her palm and pouts.
“What do you want to listen to?” Dahyun asks, her voice rough from lack of use.
Mina pauses to think, eyebrows furrowing cutely, then breaks out that bright, beaming smile that singlehandedly manages to lower Dahyun’s defenses.
How can Dahyun hate her life and everything in it now?
“Anything that makes you feel at ease,” Mina says, fingertips brushing over the skin of Dahyun’s scarred knee. One she got from falling off the scooter back when she was seven.
Fighting back the urge to make a cheesy remark and ask what if Mina is the one who makes her happy, Dahyun swipes through her phone and opens the piano app. Without saying anything, she taps on a few keys to test them out, and takes a deep breath the way she would in front of an audience before a big performance.
Dahyun exhales.
Anything that makes her feel at ease.
The moment the thought crosses Dahyun’s mind, her hand moves on its own to run her thumb over Mina’s temple, drawing more of Mina’s affection to herself. Like a sunflower being drawn to the sun.
She touches Mina’s cheek, then leans in to kiss the sliver of moonlight crowning her dark hair.
Over the crack on her phone’s screen, Dahyun presses on the keys, playing Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 until Mina falls asleep on her lap, her arms loosening enough for Dahyun to be able to slip away from her embrace.
But Dahyun doesn’t slip away—just sinks down to lay on the bed and rolls them both over on their side, and holds Mina close throughout the night.)
There are good days, and there are bad ones.
And then there are the absolute worst ones. The days where they’re good at first, only to turn out bad in the end. Those are the days Dahyun hates the most. At least with the bad ones, it doesn’t feel like the universe is being spiteful by giving her reasons to feel good about herself, except with the ultimate goal of making things worse for Dahyun than they already are.
She should have known it wouldn’t last.
After more than a month, Dahyun had finally landed a gig at some birthday party a rich family is throwing for their youngest daughter, and the pay offered to her was thrice the amount she usually receives. Naturally, she was thrilled at the once in a lifetime show of generosity presented to her.
Was being the operative word.
Expression blank, Dahyun stares off into space, standing motionless in front of the entrance to one of the most expensive events place in the entirety of Seoul, the towering, swinging glass doors serving as a physical barrier separating Dahyun’s kind from theirs. She doesn’t even have the energy to scoff, whatever of it is left already spent on clutching the fancy envelope in her hand, the flap gaping slightly from the stack of bills crammed inside.
Quite frankly, Dahyun finds it insulting how she wasn’t even given the chance to earn the money she received. Whatever is left of her wounded pride tells her to force her way in and return the money, and Dahyun is sure she would have gone through with it if not for the buzzing of her phone.
[hyunsmina 💚]: hyunnieeee <3
[hyunsmina 💚]: you’re coming home after your set, right?
[hyunsmina 💚]: i’m making pasta for dinner! eat as much as you want when you get back, okay?
[hyunsmina 💚]: i love you <3
Dahyun can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of her throat. Really. Leave it to Mina to make sure dark, gloomy clouds have no business floating over her head.
Like an angel come to save Dahyun from herself.
[minashyun 🤍]: yup, i’ll be back asap
[minashyun 🤍]: i love you too
Dahyun sighs and slips the envelope inside her messenger bag, lips pursed as she stares at the glass doors one last time before turning to walk away.
----------
If there’s one person, and one person alone who can turn her shittiest days upside down, it’s Mina.
“Dahyun-ah!”
The moment Dahyun steps foot inside the threshold, Mina squeals and launches herself across the cramped space and jumps straight into Dahyun’s arms. Without a single care, Dahyun drops her bag onto the floor and lifts Mina by the back of her knees and closes the door with her foot. Mina giggles, wrapping her legs around Dahyun’s waist, giggling harder when Dahyun initiates the kiss.
“You’re home early,” Mina says in between light pecks, tugging on Dahyun’s lower lip with her teeth.
“Mmm.” Dahyun walks them over to the couch and plops down on the worn, ragged cushion, Mina straddling her.
Like a thirsty wanderer in the desert, Dahyun continues drinking off of Mina’s lips, putting just the right amount of pressure in every kiss—Mina acting like the past few hours they’ve been apart have been unbearable with how she can’t seem to keep her hands off of Dahyun.
If not for Mina, they certainly were unbearable for Dahyun.
Mina flirts her fingertips over the back of Dahyun’s neck, running them over the slope of Dahyun’s shoulders, digging the heel of her palms into the tense knots in Dahyun’s back. The groan that betrays Dahyun isn’t just because of how good it feels, having Mina’s impossibly soft hands knead the tense flesh of her back, but also the frustration gnawing at her.
Mina catches on immediately.
“What’s wrong, Dahyunnie?” Mina asks quietly, lips brushing over Dahyun’s hair.
As tempting as it is to downplay her dour mood, there’s Mina’s own feelings to consider now that they’re a team. Dating Myoui Mina, as it turns out, has been nothing but healthy for Dahyun—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Mina is just so good to her, always wants the best for her, wanting nothing more than for Dahyun to have a proper, healthy outlet for her emotions.
It just so happens Dahyun finds the greatest comfort in Mina offering herself for her to hold.
With a slow sigh, Dahyun wraps her arms around Mina’s waist and makes a pillow out of her chest, tired eyes fluttering to a shut as Mina strokes her hair. The tightness in Dahyun’s chest and the self-doubts clouding her head instantly melts away the moment she draws Mina fits into her embrace, her arms moving on their own to lock Mina into a much-needed, comforting hug.
“The family bailed on me,” Dahyun mumbles, hugging Mina tighter, kissing her neck. “They didn’t even bother to tell me until I got there. Apparently, they didn’t ‘need my services’ anymore since they got one of their nieces to play for them, so they probably thought giving me the money would make things better.”
At the end of her short rant, Dahyun huffs and runs a hand through her slicked hair, disheveling the dark strands into a tousled mess which she doesn’t bother fixing again. It isn’t like she has a good reason to keep it neat, anyway.
Hours and evenings spent practicing the pieces requested of her, only to be for naught in the end. Dahyun is starting to think she’s crazy for wanting this. Heck, maybe she is. Crazier than the rich folk who don’t give a damn about people beneath them, and would discard anything and anyone they have no use or need for with the snap of a finger.
Her frustrations, bitterness, and mounting self-doubt—Mina squeezes out every single last one until Dahyun has calmed down enough to not think of anything other than kiss the shell of Mina’s ear.
“It’s just so frustrating,” Dahyun mutters into Mina’s chest. “It isn’t even about the money. It never was. This gig could’ve been another shot at getting someone to notice me—so I can grow and get out of this rut.”
“It never was,” Mina agrees, a sad sort of smile curving at her lips. “But maybe one day people will get us.”
“Maybe,” Dahyun echoes. “I’d love to watch you dance on a bigger stage.”
Mina giggles, a dreamy look crossing her perpetually soft gaze, tilts Dahyun’s chin so she could kiss her temple and eyelids. Dahyun could honestly drown forever in Mina’s affection. It’s the one thing she wouldn’t mind drowning in, after being submerged in her own loneliness for so long since she moved into this crappy apartment.
“You really should stop making things about me when we’re supposed to be focusing on you, Dahyun-ah,” Mina scolds her gently.
When Dahyun laughs her off, Mina huffs and jabs at her side.
“I’m serious,” Mina mutters, cupping Dahyun’s face. “I hate the way they treated you.”
Dahyun rubs Mina’s back and offers a rueful smile. “That makes two of us. Sorry, Mina. You even went through the trouble of ironing my clothes for nothing.”
“What? And give them the satisfaction of ruining your night?” Mina scoffs, chin tilted in defiance. “Well, I’m not letting that happen, Dahyunnie.”
And then Mina slides off of Dahyun’s lap to march into their shared bedroom, because at this point Mina has practically moved in with how she sleeps over at Dahyun’s place more than she does her own. Even Mina’s clothes have taken over half the space of her small closet, her neon post-its with cute little notes written for Dahyun stuck anywhere and everywhere in the apartment.
Dahyun follows Mina into the bedroom, but is stopped by a little push to her chest and a playful wag of the finger.
“No peeking, okay? Turn around, Dahyun-ah.”
Dahyun backs away with her hands raised in the air and turns her back to Mina, feeling her cheeks heat up at the muffled noise of clothes hitting the floor. She almost turns back around when Mina playfully throws her shirt at the back of her head, Mina’s teasing giggles tickling Dahyun’s ear as she tosses her gym shorts by Dahyun’s feet.
It’s almost as though Mina is tempting her to turn around.
Dahyun groans. Mina is seriously going to be the death of her.
After a few more torturous minutes of waiting with Dahyun exercising self-control, Mina calls out to her. “I’m done!”
Dahyun picks up Mina’s discarded shirt and gym shorts off the floor, then tosses them into the laundry basket at the corner of the bedroom. And then all she can think about is how damn lucky she is—the absolute freaking luckiest—to have a girl as achingly pretty and kind as Mina as her girlfriend.
Because Mina is stunning in that strapless black dress that reaches a little beyond her knees, her naturally wavy hair falling short of her chest, and one of Dahyun’s light jackets draped over her shoulders.
“What do you think?” Mina twirls around, the skirt of her dress flowing gracefully to follow her movement. “It’s the nicest dress I have.”
“You look nice,” Dahyun says, breathless, then collects herself and shoots Mina a charming grin. “But you look nice in everything.”
Mina hits Dahyun’s shoulder and laughs. “Sweet talker.”
Dahyun laughs, too, and pulls Mina close by the small of her back. “I’m serious. You do look nice all the time.”
Mina’s only answer to that is a fond roll of the eyes and a kiss on Dahyun’s nose. “Okay, prince charming. Let your nice-looking girlfriend fix your day.”
----------
Mina fixes Dahyun’s soured evening and so much more. First, she cooks the best pesto pasta Dahyun has ever had in her entire life, and when Dahyun tells her as much, Mina blushes, kicks her foot under the table, and says it has to be because Dahyun hasn’t had a proper meal in a while.
After washing the dishes together with some playful hip bumping and teasing pokes at each other’s cheeks, Mina takes Dahyun by the hand and drags her out of the apartment and up the stairwell leading to the rooftop. Dahyun is fairly sure they aren’t allowed to be there since the door is locked, but Mina flashes her this cute, cheeky grin and pulls out a hair pin, spy movie style, then picks the lock within a minute.
To say that Dahyun is in awe is a severe understatement. She can’t help herself. Underneath those shy blushes, cute giggles, and tender touches is a daring, adventurous soul that resonates with Dahyun’s cynicism and goofiness.
The brisk autumn air greets them the moment they step foot into the rooftop, Dahyun faring the cold much better than Mina who instantly shudders and yanks Dahyun in by the collar. One would think with how cold Mina easily gets, she would huddle close to Dahyun for warmth. Instead, her playful, mischievous side jumps out, and Dahyun’s unfortunate, lovestruck soul falls victim to it.
With a little smirk, Mina wriggles her fingertips against the skin of Dahyun’s nape, the absurd chill nearly causing Dahyun to jump straight out of her skin.
“Whoa, hey, that’s really cold!” Dahyun groans, reaching behind her to trap Mina’s playful hands. “Minari!”
But Mina just giggles and tickles Dahyun’s neck with her cold fingers. Dahyun continues to struggle with a huff, though she isn’t actually annoyed at Mina. It’s kind of hard to be, when Mina is so damn cute.
“We should do something to stay warm, then,” Mina suggests.
Dahyun stops struggling and raises an eyebrow. Sure, she knew Mina could be bold and daring, but she didn’t think Mina was that adventurous.
Mina seems to have caught on to her train of thought, though.
“Not like that!” Mina whines, face turning as red as a tomato, and hits Dahyun’s shoulder. “I didn’t- I meant- I was going to say we should dance.”
Really, it’s cute and endearing, how Mina fumbles over her words in a frantic attempt to clarify herself. Dahyun would have laughed, if not for the fact that Mina is still freezing. Gosh. How can someone be this cold?
“Come on,” Dahyun urges gently.
Mina looks up at Dahyun, puzzled. Dahyun chuckles, soft and low, and tugs Mina into her arms. Mina’s cheek is cold against her neck, but Dahyun braves through it and sways them back and forth, holding a shuddering Mina close all throughout.
Mina fishes Dahyun’s phone out of her pocket and inputs the passcode (she’d insisted Dahyun change her passcode into her birthday), then pulls up the playlist they made together. It’s a clash of rock, classical, and basically every genre Dahyun plays on the piano and the ones Mina danced to for her old classes.
Unlike Mina, she doesn’t dance much, but Dahyun’s perfect sense of rhythm pulls her through the basic steps Mina teaches her. Dahyun learns a bit of swing, ballroom, and cha-cha, her hands barely leaving Mina’s waist and the small of her back as they dance around the rooftop.
Somewhere in between twirling Mina around to catch her back in her arms, Dahyun lets go so Mina can dance on her own, the tips of their fingers brushing before Mina pirouettes away. On the streets far down below the rooftop, car horns honk and drunk men laugh, loud and boisterous, but they’re nothing more than white noise to Dahyun’s ears.
It’s a shame the stars don’t shine out here in the city, the lights glinting off the surrounding buildings serving as a poor imitation of the twinkling dots hanging in the sky together with the moon. But it doesn’t matter. Whether they be stars or city lights—Mina outshines them all.
Then Mina leaps back into her embrace, graceful and without a single misstep, the grin on her face contagious.
In her arms, Mina thrums with life, the most alive and elated when she’s dancing. Mina’s love and passion are sparks uncontained, blazing through Dahyun’s skin where their hands meet, unaffected by the tall, sturdy walls trying their damnedest to hinder Mina from reaching greater heights.
So be it.
Those walls won’t stop Dahyun from being Mina’s greatest support system.
With a strength built up by the intensity of her growing feelings for Mina, Dahyun holds her by the waist and lifts her into the air, eyes closing on their own the moment Mina touches her face. If only there was some way Mina could know it’s with her Dahyun feels the most alive—anything—Dahyun would let her know in a half beat.
But Mina already does.
“I’ll always have your back, Dahyun-ah,” Mina promises, and seals it with a kiss to Dahyun’s forehead. “Even if you have days like this, or encounter people who can’t see you love what you do more than anyone else does, they won’t change how good you are at what you do. So don’t ever give up, okay?”
Dahyun swallows thickly. How could someone be this good to her? Maybe she’ll never figure out the answer, but it’s okay.
As long as she has Mina, there would always be a light at the end of the tunnel.
“Okay,” Dahyun answers, raw and hoarse, cradling the back of Mina’s head to her shoulder. “I won’t.”
----------
(Their clothes are strewn all over the floor, her dress shirt ending up being worn by Mina after hours of being tangled in the sheets, Mina smoothing out Dahyun’s tousled hair with a fond giggle. Dahyun smiles, lazy and crooked, reveling in Mina’s affection for her.
“How are you so warm?” Mina mumbles, rubbing her hands against Dahyun’s arms.
Dahyun laughs into Mina’s hair. “One of us has to be.”
Content and happy, Mina sighs, bare legs hooked around Dahyun’s hips. “You’re so good to me, Dahyunnie.”
Dahyun chuckles, sweeping Mina’s fringe aside. “Nowhere near as good as you are to me, though.”
Mina juts out her lower lip and runs her nails down Dahyun’s back. “No way. I just don’t like seeing you so blue.”
“And that’s exactly why,” Dahyun murmurs. “No one’s ever thought this much about me in a while.”
“Then you’ll have to get used to it,” Mina says, firm but caring, and lets Dahyun tangle their fingers together above her head. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Dahyunnie.”
Before feeling the tender squeeze of Mina’s hand, Dahyun hasn’t truly realized how much she’s grown used to dealing with the bad days on her own. As someone who takes hurtful and disappointing experiences to heart too much, those gray-sunken days could be overwhelming, but she had to push through even if it was difficult to.
But Mina…
Dahyun finally understands what people mean when they say through thick and thin. Because of Mina.
Mina, who could kiss her worries off her lips before they can come tumbling out. Mina, who willingly offers herself to be held and loved, because she knows Dahyun always feels better that way.
Holding Mina’s hands above the pillows, Dahyun first kisses her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. Mina melts back into the sheets, kissing Dahyun back with the same, lazy pace, giggling breathlessly as Dahyun noses her neck before kissing it, too.
Mina doesn’t go anywhere the whole night, just stays in Dahyun’s arms while Dahyun loves her over and over again until the sunrise.
With the sun peeking through the clouds and into Dahyun’s bedroom, Mina cups Dahyun’s face in her hands, and sleepily mumbles, “I love you, Dahyun-ah.”
Dahyun smiles, loving the feeling of Mina’s warmed skin against the tips of her fingers. She hugs Mina close, feeling Mina’s body grow lighter and lighter until she finally falls fast asleep nestled in Dahyun’s embrace.
“I love you, too, Mina.”)
Dahyun is convinced that Mina is her own lucky charm.
After a whole week of slogging through night shifts at the convenience store and coming home to Mina making breakfast—breakfast for crying out loud—she finally gets the lucky break she’d been wishing for. Coming home at dinnertime for the first time in a week, Dahyun is cheerful, her feet light as she sprints to her apartment unit and opens the door.
The small space smells of cooked rice and boiling kimchi jjigae, along with a dash of Mina’s favorite jasmine oil. Dahyun smiles at the post-it stuck onto the fridge: Dahyunnie wants kimchi jjigae for dinner tonight <3.
“Minari!” Dahyun calls out, haphazardly tossing her jacket onto one of the chairs.
Mina turns away from the stove, squealing in surprise when Dahyun gathers her in her arms and peppers her neck with excited kisses.
“Dahyun-ah!” Mina laughs, tickled by Dahyun’s lips. “That tickles!”
“Sorry,” Dahyun apologizes, grinning widely. “I have good news!”
“Really?” Mina lights up, turning off the stove to leave the stew to boil on its own. “What is it?”
Dahyun shows Mina the flyer for an upcoming classical piano recital, and eagerly rambles, “I was playing the piano at the mall, and one of the organizers saw me. There’s actually supposed to be auditions for this, but he told me I was more than good enough to skip the process and signed me in on the spot.”
“Oh my God!” Mina squeals, grabbing Dahyun’s face in excitement. “Dahyun-ah! You did it!”
“I did it!” Dahyun cheers, engulfing Mina into a tight embrace, her happiness overflowing with Mina’s shared excitement over the news.
“You better get me that front row seat, okay?” Mina makes her promise. “I have to watch you from up close.”
“Okay,” Dahyun agrees, wrapping her pinky finger around Mina’s. “I promise.”
Mina looks positively thrilled—even writes down a note on the post-it and slaps it onto the fridge.
October 7, 2022. My Dahyunnie’s recital <3
My Dahyunnie.
Dahyun feels like she’s flying among the stars; she takes the pen from Mina’s hand and scribbles her own note underneath.
Get a front row seat for my Minari <3
And darn it, Mina looks so happy, her face practically glowing when Dahyun buries her nose into her hair and mumbles, “My Minari.”
Dahyun swears she’ll never find another girl like her Mina.
----------
In her free time, Dahyun studies her sheet music until the notes are tattooed to the back of her eyelids. One evening, she drills herself into practicing on the piano too much, and the consequences come in the form stiff shoulders, cramped hands, and tight knots around the upper half of her body.
The disapproving tuts Mina clucks out has Dahyun chuckling nervously and scratching at the back of her neck. There’s a fraction of a second where Dahyun is sure Mina will scold her, only for Mina to thaw the next fraction by sighing out of fond exasperation.
Anyway, that’s how Dahyun ends up lying stomach down on the bed with Mina sitting on her back, biting back tiny groans when Mina happens upon a particularly tight knot by her shoulder blade. Mina focuses on that spot, kneading and pushing and rubbing, until Dahyun stops tensing and dissolves into the mattress with a relaxed sigh.
“How does it feel?” Mina asks, rubbing Dahyun’s shoulders.
“Good,” Dahyun groans out. “So damn good, Minari.”
Mina laughs, soft and twinkling, her thumbs pressing down on the base of Dahyun’s spine. Dahyun lays her head on her arms and lets out a tired yawn, nearly dozing off to the push of Mina’s palms against her back.
Not wanting to fall asleep yet, she opens the piano app on her phone with the intention of sneaking some more practice in. Before she can tap on a single key, though, Mina playfully swats Dahyun’s hands away from her phone and confiscates it.
“No more practice for tonight,” Mina scolds her, making a little humph as she turns Dahyun’s phone off.
Thinking it best not to push her luck against a pouty, concerned Mina, Dahyun decides to throw in the towel. Pleased by the lack of complaint, Mina rewards Dahyun with an affectionate ruffle of the hair and a little singing.
She fights her hardest not to give in to the call of the sandman, but Mina sings so prettily, pulling Dahyun further and further away from lucidity.
God.
She’s so, so in love with Mina it isn’t funny anymore.
----------
“Oh my God,” Mina giggles uncontrollably, while Dahyun struggles with tying her necktie. “No, no! You’re doing it all wrong, Dahyunnie!”
“Really?” Dahyun furrows her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure this is what the tutorial said, though.”
Stifling her laughter, Mina takes the ends of the necktie from Dahyun’s fumbling hands and loops it perfectly in one try. Dahyun stares at Mina, slack jawed.
“How did you—”
“—I practiced for you,” Mina confesses with a small blush.
Dahyun shakes her head, watches with tender awe as Mina dabs perfume onto her wrists and neck. Mina looks so lovely wearing that red dress, hair done in loose curls, pretty moles unhidden by the minimal make-up she put on.
Dahyun falls. Hard. Like a shooting star falling from the sky.
If it wouldn’t smear Mina’s lipstick, Dahyun would have thanked her with a little kiss.
“Come on,” Mina urges, tugging at Dahyun’s arm. The slight upturn of her lips has Dahyun in a daze, and wondering how a girl can be so painfully pretty yet easy on the eyes.
“Dahyun-ah,” Mina says, laughing again, tapping on the inside of Dahyun’s elbow. “We’re going to be late for your recital.”
Screw it.
Dahyun kisses the corner of Mina’s mouth, grins at the pretty pink flush that dusts Mina’s cheeks, and twines their fingers together.
----------
Her heart pounds against her chest, threatening to escape from the confines of Dahyun’s ribs, but Mina makes sure her heartbeat doesn’t stray completely off course by tapping a steady rhythm on Dahyun’s wrist.
Damn. When was the last time she performed in front of a large crowd?
“Breathe, Dahyun-ah,” Mina reminds Dahyun, the gentleness in her voice reminding Dahyun of calm summer nights.
Dahyun nods, her shoulders losing their tension the longer Mina holds her hands. Huh. When was the last time she had someone to calm her nerves before a performance?
“There,” Mina softly whispers. Dahyun decides there and then it doesn’t matter. Past is past, and Mina—lovely, loving Myoui Mina—is her present.
“It’s been a while,” Dahyun says, but she doesn’t need to explain for Mina to understand. “I’m nervous, Minari.”
“That’s okay,” Mina assures her, a small grin toying at her lips. “You can just picture the audience naked.”
A short pause follows right after, afterwards which Mina furrows her eyebrows, then mumbles, “Actually, no, don’t do that. I don’t think I’d like you imagining other people naked.”
Despite the butterfly of nerves fluttering about in her stomach, Dahyun manages to let out a laugh. An actual, hearty one, and not a nervous chuckle. She can’t help it when Mina shows her jealousy in the cutest ways.
“I’ll try not to, then,” Dahyun jokes, earning her a bigger pout and a smack on the arm.
“You better not,” Mina huffs, eyes narrowed.
Dahyun is about to answer, when a series of knocks resounds through the space of the waiting room.
“Miss Dahyun?” a man calls out, his muffled voice breaking into their bubble. “Please ready yourself and go backstage.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Dahyun calls out. “Thank you!”
As the man’s footsteps recede down the hallway, Dahyun gets to her feet and pulls on her suit jacket, her pounding heartbeat now under control thanks to Mina’s calming presence. Mina wraps her arms around Dahyun’s neck, lips inching closer.
“What about your lipstick?” Dahyun mumbles, unsure why the state of Mina’s lipstick is so concerning to her.
“Oh, Dahyun-ah,” Mina says with a soft laugh and a shake of the head. “I have it in my purse.”
And then Mina wishes her good luck, not through words but through a tender kiss.
Dahyun wouldn’t be surprised if she manages to uproot an entire skyscraper off its foundations after the night is over.
----------
She was eight, Dahyun thinks, when she had her first recital. Her parents were there, front and center, her mother’s face beaming with pride, her father grinning with his chest puffed out. That’s our daughter, they would tell the other parents, as Dahyun carried around the little gold-plated trophy down the stage.
Ironic, really. How her passion which had been once a source of her parents’ pride and joy, had eventually become the root of their loathing. To the eighteen-year-old her, nothing hurt more than being the only incoming freshman in the dorm to not have parents be there at the opening ceremonies.
It took a while—roughly four years, she’s pretty sure—of non-stop attempts at one-sided appeals to her parents before Dahyun came to accept they won’t ever come around. Or that they’ll sit front and center to watch her do what she loves most.
That’s fine. Though there are innumerable times where she struggles to scrape by, she’s still alive and breathing. And maybe there were times where she could feel the spark within her fizzing out, but Dahyun always found a way to reignite it.
Her parents are nowhere to be found, but who cares? She’s over it—has been for a while now. And Mina is right there, sitting where her mother and father would have, happier and prouder of her than her parents have ever been.
She doesn’t picture anybody in the audience naked (Mina would be happy to know that)—her eyes busy following the arrangement of notes on the sheet music laid out in front of her, Mina’s impossibly tender smile seen clearly from Dahyun’s periphery.
Silence weighs measurably inside the auditorium, pierced only ever so often by a few people in the audience who murmur their awe among themselves. But Dahyun doesn’t let it get to her head. She’s always played out of love for the piano, not to have her ego fed by storms of praises and compliments.
Dahyun takes a deep breath.
Classical pieces are intense to play no matter the length, and Dahyun finds herself immensely grateful to Mina for emphasizing the need for rest in between rigid practice sessions; otherwise, she wouldn’t manage to finish performing the piece in its entirety. A bead of sweat breaks out of her forehead, but Dahyun doesn’t dare pause to wipe it away. Doing so would just be asking for trouble, and so, she pushes on, the intensity flowing from the tips of her fingers and bleeding into the keys.
The first minute feels like an eternity. The second minute inches somewhat faster. The third goes even faster. The fourth is a blur, rapidly hurtling her toward the end of the piece, toward the final note which would end her performance.
Then she hits the last note, and there’s a few seconds of silence which Dahyun seizes to catch her breath, her heartbeat still stuck in a crescendo.
Mina is the first to clap her hands, and Dahyun is immediately drawn to the sound. Mina’s smile is bright—brighter than the blazing lights searing through the auditorium—momentarily blinding Dahyun. Everyone else in the audience follows suit: men in their tuxedos and women in their tailored dresses collectively rise to their feet and give Dahyun a resounding standing ovation, the chorus of their claps echoing off the walls and hammering against her eardrums.
But all Dahyun can see is Mina. Sweet, sweet, Myoui Mina. The girl she could love, because she already does.
That’s my girlfriend, Mina mouths out, and Dahyun swears she’d never want to be anybody else’s.
----------
(The night ends with one of Mina’s stilettos cracking on its heel, but instead of being annoyed, Mina laughs it off with a joke that it’s a miracle they lasted this long for their unbelievably cheap price. And because Dahyun wants to be the chivalrous girlfriend, she gives Mina a piggyback ride the rest of the way home.
Ever clingy, Mina drapes herself tight around Dahyun, now wrapped in both the jacket she borrowed (stole) and Dahyun’s suit jacket. The streets leading to their apartment is dark, the streetlights barely shining down on the cracked sidewalk, their phone flashlights doing a much better job lighting their path.
One day, she’ll rent out an apartment unit in a secure neighborhood and ask Mina to move with her. It’ll have a bedroom large enough to house a queen-size bed, a spacious bathroom where the shower would be in an enclosed stall and where the heater doesn’t break down every other day, and a functioning living room with an unused couch they could laze around in all afternoon while watching movies.
Heck, maybe there’ll even be enough leftover space in her dream apartment for an upright piano, at the very least.
One day, though, she’ll be able to afford a pair of nice, sturdy high heels for Mina—ones that won’t crack after a mere few uses.
“I was eight when I had my first ballet competition,” Mina softly says, her honey voice tickling the shell of Dahyun’s ear. “My parents bought me a nice pair of ballet shoes for it, and I loved them so much I even wore them at home.”
Dahyun chuckles at the mental image of an eight-year-old Mina, dancing around her childhood living room in pajamas and ballet shoes. Had they met when they were kids, Dahyun is sure they’d have gotten along as well as they do now.
“That’s cute,” Dahyun says.
Mina gives Dahyun a quick kiss on the cheek. “Not as cute as you.”
“And she says I’m the sweet talker,” Dahyun deadpans.
Mina hits her shoulder, and Dahyun bursts out laughing.
“I’m just telling the truth,” Mina mumbles, rubbing her cool nose into the warm skin of Dahyun’s neck.
Dahyun chuckles, patting Mina’s knee. “I know.”
As easily as Mina goes soft for her, Dahyun is forgiven for her playful teasing with Mina humming the piece she performed. She glances at the broken stilettos dangling from Mina’s grasp, her thoughts filled with Mina dancing on the rooftop, Mina gracing the stage with her ethereal presence for Dahyun to see.
This is who I am. This is what I love.
Maybe she’ll get Mina a new pair of ballet shoes one of these days. So Mina can keep doing and never stop being what she is and loves.)
Her participation in the recital gives way to more opportunities. Every now and then, her phone buzzes and rings with texts and calls—every unknown number asking to book Dahyun for parties and gatherings. And the real kicker is basically everyone offers to pay Dahyun far more than her previous employers did combined.
Much as she’d love to accept every single booking, there’s a limit to how many of them her schedule can occupy and how much her body can keep up with the sudden onslaught of demands. She can’t afford to get sick, literally and figuratively, and Dahyun knows Mina won’t allow it. That’s what the bottles of vitamins on their kitchen counter are for. Mina, ever sweet and caring, helps Dahyun weed out which ones she should take; pen, calendar, and sticky notes at the ready to jot the jobs down.
“How’s my schedule Saturday next week?”
Mina peers at the calendar, pen spinning between her fingers, shaking her head to fix her bangs. Dahyun swears she could propose to Mina right there and then.
“You should be good to go,” Mina says, tapping the end of her pen against the note scrawled down for Friday. Date night <3, it says.
Dahyun smiles, reaching out without thinking to run her knuckles along Mina’s temple. “Thanks, Minari.”
Mina squeezes Dahyun’s hand, but instead of letting go, she slots her fingers in the spaces in between Dahyun’s. “You’re welcome, Dahyun-ah.”
Dahyun scans the rest of the calendar—once empty and had little to no use other than remind her what date it is, but now filled out with gigs written in Mina’s pretty handwriting. What used to be a seemingly fruitless dream is finally beginning to become a reality in front of her very eyes, and Dahyun could hardly believe it.
Naturally, she pinches herself. Just to make sure. Mina catches Dahyun, her first reaction being to giggle.
“What are you doing?” Mina laughs, rubbing Dahyun’s reddened cheek.
“Just making sure I’m not dreaming,” Dahyun confesses, nodding toward the filled boxes. “I still can’t believe I finally got my lucky break.”
“You worked hard for it,” Mina says, softly, proudly, sliding off her seat to plant herself on Dahyun’s lap, “and you deserve it. More than anyone else in the world.”
Dahyun looks at Mina, her heart swelling ten times over, love shining within her own, tender gaze. She takes the pen from Mina and uncaps it, then scrawls her own message underneath the one Mina wrote for the seventh:
Take the day off and watch my Minari’s audition.
“You deserve to have your dreams start to come true, too, Mina.”
Mina stares at Dahyun’s note, tears welling in her eyes, then looks at Dahyun again. The trembling of her lower lip and the shimmer of her cheeks speak volumes of immense gratefulness—tell a painful story of a girl who has repeatedly searched for a familiar face in seas of people, but could find none.
Dahyun knows that pain all too well. The bitterness of having your classmates and colleagues surrounded by family, but having none for herself.
But no more. They have each other now. She has Mina, and Mina has her.
And truthfully, as she kisses Mina’s tears away, that’s all that matters.
When Dahyun comes home one Wednesday evening the next week after a gig, it’s to a pair of Mina’s ballet shoes sitting at the entryway. Upon taking a closer look, Dahyun finds the material worn by the toe area, most likely a few uses away from being unusable. Though Mina’s auditions aren’t until next week, she’ll have to wear them to practice too, and more wear and tear would be unavoidable.
Which means they’ll barely be hanging on by the time Mina’s audition comes around. Dahyun can’t have that. Not when Mina is about to be one step closer to reaching greater heights.
“Dahyunnie? Is that you?”
Dahyun slips the envelope containing her pay back inside her messenger bag, and quickly replaces her shoes with her slippers. Really, it’s absurd, how rich folk would throw outrageous amounts of money without batting an eye, if they truly wanted to.
Well, not that Dahyun is complaining. Call it payback for the opportunities unjustly deprived of people like her, no thanks to bribes and other unsavory gestures.
“I’m home,” Dahyun announces, her presence more than enough for Mina’s bright smile to light up the whole apartment.
She drops her bag onto her seat, then makes her way around the kitchen to curl an arm around Mina’s waist and kiss her in greeting. Mina hums, melting into the kiss, smelling faintly of the miso soup boiling in the pot. Dahyun loves how Mina always smells of the food she cooks every time she comes home.
“Welcome home, Dahyun-ah.” Mina gives her a peck on the cheek just because she can, not minding the least when Dahyun shifts from a one-armed embrace to a back hug.
“Almost done?” Dahyun asks, peering into the pot.
“Mmhmm,” Mina hums, reaching back with her free hand to pat Dahyun’s hair. “It should be done after you change clothes.”
“Okay.” Dahyun kisses Mina’s temple (just because she can, too) and retreats into their bedroom, messenger bag dangling off her shoulder.
She rummages around inside the bag for the envelope, pausing to sneak a glance at the kitchen to make sure Mina is still preoccupied with cooking, then discreetly takes out a few bills. There’s a small, round tin container hidden deep inside her closet, with a separate stack of savings not for herself, but for a gift for Mina. A little something for the perfect girl, for being nothing but understanding and supportive of her endeavors.
After cramming the bills inside, Dahyun hides the container back where she took it from, then changes into a pair of sweats and plaid pajamas.
Mina is none the wiser to Dahyun’s plans during their entire dinner, laughing out of amused fondness as she watches Dahyun huff and push her fogged glasses up her forehead.
Myoui Mina truly deserves everything good in the world, and Dahyun would be damned if she said otherwise.
----------
While Mina is out for practice, Dahyun takes the opportunity to go shopping. She leaves a sticky note on the fridge saying she’ll be back soon, in case Mina comes home first.
She takes the train on her commute—the most inexpensive form of transport—to the heart of Seoul, fanny pack slung securely across her chest where she can see it at all times. There’s just no way she’ll risk losing the money she saved for a new pair of ballet shoes for Mina.
Unlike Dahyun who doesn’t dilly-dally about, the groups of friends and families milling about the mall stop in front of storefront displays to window shop. It isn’t like she can afford to splurge on a few clothes or a new frame for her glasses, so Dahyun doesn’t bother to explore any of the shops.
What she does take the time for is choosing a pair of shoes for Mina. Though Dahyun can’t claim to be an expert on ballet gear, her internet searches have given her a vague idea as to what to look for. The saleslady is friendly and engaging, too, her explanations proving to be an immense help and not meaningless information dumping.
After nearly half an hour of mulling her options over, Dahyun eventually decides on getting two pairs: one made of satin, and one of leather. The satin ones, Mina can use for performances, and the leather ones for practice, as kindly explained by the saleslady.
She pays for the shoes and gives the saleslady a tip as thanks for her help, whistling to herself as she leaves the store. Just imagining the look on Mina’s face when she finds the brand-new shoes by the threshold makes Dahyun want to rush straight home.
So, that’s exactly what she does, her next and final stopover at a convenience store to get a bottle of Mina’s favorite sparkling grape juice.
----------
When she gets home, Dahyun acts like nothing is out of the ordinary and busies herself with preparing dinner: a pot of rabokki with a couple of hard-boiled eggs split in half. Just as she drops the eggs into the pot, the door swings open with an audible creak, drowned out by Mina’s cheerful, “I’m home, Dahyunnie!”
Then, a sharp gasp and stumbling footsteps. Dahyun turns around, smile innocent, like she isn’t the culprit behind the boxes of shoes Mina carries into the kitchen.
“Welcome home,” Dahyun greets, suppressing the thrilled grin threatening to split her face in half. “How was practice?”
But Mina just stares at her, dumfounded, and stammers, “I don’t— what’s this? Why are there two boxes?”
“You could open them and find out.”
After almost a minute more of confused, wide-eyed staring, Mina snaps out of her daze and lifts the boxes’ lids, revealing the two pairs of shoes. With trembling hands, Mina takes the shoes out, her eyes misting over as she admires them in stunned, breathless awe.
“Dahyun-ah.” Mina’s voice cracks, and before the sniffles could come, Dahyun walks around the kitchen and wraps her arms around Mina’s waist.
“Surprise,” Dahyun says, grinning softly, thumbing Mina’s tears away. “Do you like them?”
Mina nods vigorously, laughs out of sheer happiness as she throws her arms around Dahyun’s neck. “I love them! They’re so beautiful. But they must have cost you a lot, haven’t they?”
The last part is punctuated with a small frown and a creased forehead, which Dahyun chases away with a gentle press of her thumb.
“It didn’t,” Dahyun assures Mina with a shake of the head and a fond smile. “Nothing could ever cost me a lot when it comes to you. You’ve been so supportive of me this whole time, but I couldn’t let it be a one-way street.”
The sniffling finally bursts out, Mina cupping Dahyun’s cheeks to thank her with a lingering kiss, that Dahyun can’t even bring it in her to joke about Mina’s endlessly cold hands. Dahyun doesn’t mind, though. She loves how Mina treats her face like it’s her personal handwarmer.
“I think I just found my good luck shoes,” Mina says with a breathless giggle, cool palms still pressed against Dahyun’s face. “And it’s thanks to my lucky person.”
Dahyun flashes Mina a goofy grin. “Yeah? And who’s this lucky person you’re talking about?”
Mina laughs, pats Dahyun’s cheek, and says, “My neighbor.”
“Well,” Dahyun starts to say, tapping at Mina’s forehead, “I’m sure you’re their lucky person, too.”
----------
After weeks of hard practice and anxious waiting, the day of Mina’s auditions arrive, and she leaves a kiss on Mina’s forehead before sending her off backstage. Her heart swells with amused fondness as Mina waddles off, strands of her hair spilling out of the beanie on her head, fingertips poking out of the sleeves of her coat.
Shrugging off her own coat, Dahyun settles herself on one of the seats at the front row, smiling politely at the people sitting close to her. She drapes her coat over her lap and waits for the curtains to be drawn, for Mina to shine and get what she rightfully deserves and danced countless hours for, until she fell asleep on Dahyun’s lap right after crashing on their couch.
The theater soon fills up with people, nearly every seat taken by parents, siblings, grandparents, and guardians. Then, after a reminder to please be quiet while watching the performances, the curtains are pulled aside.
Mina is the seventh to perform (she giggled when she saw the lineup, pinched Dahyun’s cheek, and said that it has to be a good omen since Dahyun’s favorite number is seven). Dahyun prays it’s true. She’d give all her luck if it means Mina would get her big break, too.
The six performances pass by in a hazy blur—they’re impressive, Dahyun admits, but she’s afraid she’s far too biased toward Mina. Love does that to people, she guesses.
After the sixth performer has disappeared behind the curtains, Mina is introduced briefly, and Dahyun sucks in a breath of anticipation when Mina emerges from the shadows. They lock eyes, Mina sculpted piece by beautiful piece and made for the stage. Then there’s a smile aimed at Dahyun which paints Mina’s glossy pink lips, subtle but lovely nonetheless.
And the music starts: Adolphe Adam’s Giselle, played and recorded by Dahyun upon Mina’s request, having softly said she wants Dahyun to be part of it. Never having the heart to deny her, especially for a rare request which must mean a lot to Mina, Dahyun had accepted without a second thought.
Dahyun feels her face turn warm as she watches Mina dance to her recorded accompaniment. The music flows in a seamless rhythm from Mina’s long, lean limbs, showing that she was truly made to live this dream. Otherwise, no one else was made to live it. This is the hill Dahyun would die on.
More than half of Dahyun doesn’t want the show to end, doesn’t want to stop watching Mina do what she loves best. Doesn’t want Mina to be pulled away from her entire world just yet (though Mina would later argue over fries dipped into sundaes that Dahyun is part of it, right before breaking into the chorus of Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid).
To a good chunk of the audience giving a standing ovation for the flawless performance, Mina breaks into a beaming smile and bows down, soaking in the attention unabashedly showered down on her.
Yet, even with the hundreds of people surrounding them, it’s Dahyun’s face she looks for, Dahyun’s gaze she holds, and Dahyun her wide smile softens into one of unbridled affection for.
That’s my girlfriend, Dahyun mouths out, in parallel to Mina after her recital.
Mina blushes, and it takes Dahyun all her willpower not to leap onto the stage and congratulate her with a kiss.
----------
(Mina gets the part, and after surviving through the warm congratulations from the judges and the other contestants, she squeezes her way past the crowd and tackles Dahyun with a loud laugh. Her cheeks are pink from the onslaught of compliments she must have gotten on her way to Dahyun, the twinkling shine in her eyes speaking volumes of her delight.
Dahyun doesn’t even see it coming. She didn’t think Mina was the type, given how shy and quiet she is, but Mina knocks the wind clean out of Dahyun’s lungs again.
“Congra—”
She’s cut off by Mina cupping her face and kissing her, as though it’s the first thing Mina wanted to do since she had been given the lead role. Maybe it is. Dahyun wouldn’t doubt it.
Notwithstanding the throngs of people surrounding them in the lobby, Dahyun wraps her arms around Mina’s waist and returns the kiss.
“I was supposed to congratulate you first, and then kiss you,” Dahyun mumbles.
Mina giggles and ducks her head, pretending to look sheepish. “Oops.”
Ah, darn it.
She kisses Mina again, anyway.)
“When you’ve earned enough money to be more than comfortable, what do you think you’d do?”
They’re out on the rooftop again when Mina asks the question, solo cups filled to the brim with sparkling grape juice—their go-to drink on stay-in dates—Dahyun staring out into the freckles of city lights marking the sky.
Dahyun takes the time to think. Of how long it took her to start being finally recognized at last; of how many setbacks she stumbled upon; the opportunities robbed of her by so-called musicians who aren’t even dedicated—simply because they have the money and connections to get away with their lack of hard work.
“I’d want to help people like us,” Dahyun answers, absentmindedly tracing the rim of her cup with her thumb. “Maybe set up a foundation to sponsor struggling musicians and artists—make it easier for them to be recognized, so they don’t have a hard time like we do.”
Mina smiles and squeezes Dahyun’s hand. “I like that. I think they’ll feel more comfortable and welcomed, if they knew the ones helping them also went through the same struggles. That way, they won’t think we treat them like charity cases, but as someone with potential that could have a fighting chance. Like us.”
Every word resonates with Dahyun, but hearing the word ‘we’ thrown in there, clearly meaning Mina wants to be in on her future plans, strikes a deep, resounding chord in the echoes of Dahyun’s heart. As she looks away from the blurry spots of light outlining the city skyline, and into the specks of starlight glowing softly in Mina’s eyes, Dahyun finds herself at a loss for words to describe how much she wants Mina in this once lonely life of hers.
Through the growing lump in her throat, Dahyun whispers, “We?”
Mina cups Dahyun’s face and nods. “It might take a while, but I’d love to help you out too, Dahyun-ah. If possible, I don’t want any more people to suffer as much as we do, either.”
Dahyun swallows. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Mina nods, certain and determined. “I want to stick with you, even through the roughest parts. Especially through the roughest parts. And I’d like nothing more than to make sure we get other people out of their rough parts, too.”
Dahyun sucks in a breath.
God, this girl really surprises her in the most beautiful of ways. From showing up in front of the door next to hers, to blasting rock music on her phone, to hugging Dahyun out of the blue by the theater entrance, to the pretty little noises and whines she makes while they’re drowning in the sheets.
This smart, kind, beautiful, and resolute girl who’s more than willing to stick it out with her through the hard times.
She’d be stupid if she ever thinks of letting Mina go.
“You know I love you, right?” is all Dahyun can murmur, her voice raw with emotion.
A fond laugh bubbles out of Mina’s pretty lips.
“Every day, Dahyunnie. Everyday.”
Never at any point in her post-high school days did Dahyun think she’d earn enough money to justify opening a bank account. The one her parents opened for her had long been frozen, and it was done as swiftly as the blade of a guillotine being swung down: irreversible, and without mercy.
Unfortunately for them, even the proverbial guillotine couldn’t kill off Dahyun’s dream.
Excluding the money they kept for their daily expenses, Dahyun and Mina deposit the rest into their newly-opened joint account. As of now, there isn’t that much, but Dahyun is confident it would steadily grow. She’s begun to receive love calls from smaller producers, and Mina has been landing roles left and right in local productions around Seoul. They’re both much more stable for it, far more as compared to when they first met.
Mina insists Dahyun should keep the passbook; while she herself would budget the money coming in. This time for sure, Dahyun is certain she won’t be cut off, and Mina won’t either.
Their parents may have been cruel and unjust, but not them.
The way Mina resolutely thrusts the passbook into Dahyun’s hands is a sign of her faith—that Dahyun won’t ever abandon her.
“Do you think we can afford to move into a new apartment soon?”
Dahyun grimaces at the loose shower head she’s been fixing (again) and clicks her tongue. “I sure hope so, because I’m sick and tired of fixing this thing every other day.”
From where she’s perched on the small bathroom counter, Mina hums, watching Dahyun wrench the shower head tight. With how many faulty fixtures and appliances this apartment houses, Dahyun is convinced the whole building should just be plowed over with a bulldozer and replaced down to its very foundation.
“I think we do,” Mina muses out loud. “We don’t spend much money outside of our necessities, and you’re about to start your tutoring gig, right?”
“Yeah.” Dahyun slots the shower head back into its hook and sighs in relief. “It’d be nice to have a bigger bed and a bathroom that doesn’t make you shriek every time the faucet acts up.”
A towel flies across the bathroom and hits Dahyun’s crooked grin.
“Please,” a blushing Mina scoffs, “like you don’t enjoy seeing me naked.”
“What?” Dahyun feigns shock and incredulity. “You mean to tell me it was all just a ruse?”
“Do I look like I enjoy being blasted in the face with cold water??”
Dahyun makes a face. “Fair point.”
“Anyway, it isn’t all bad,” Mina says, thoughtful, eyes still on Dahyun. “There are a lot of good parts to this place, too. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m glad I moved here.”
That, Dahyun agrees with as well. Leaky faucets and peeling wallpapers aside, there are good parts that have made living here worth the while. More than her while, if Dahyun is being completely honest—which she is.
The good parts being the girl sitting on the narrow bathroom counter, legs swinging back and forth like a pendulum, head tilted cutely to the side.
“Me, too,” Dahyun admits, heartbeat seizing in her chest at the smile that lights up Mina’s impossibly pretty face.
And then the warm, fuzzy mood is broken when Dahyun makes the mistake of turning on the faucet before fixing it—resulting in a jet of cold water blasting her straight in the face. Some of the water manages to get in her mouth, which Dahyun gets rid of by spluttering.
Mina finds it funny, until she doesn’t, because Dahyun twists the faucet to give Mina a taste of her own medicine.
A final hurrah of sorts, before they move out of this hellhole and into a place that’s actually livable.
It does take a while, and it begins with a brand-new start.
Life isn’t as much of a struggle as before, and Dahyun has Mina to thank for that. Less and less people snob their capabilities simply because of their social status, while more and more start to appreciate and admire her and Mina for their raw talent.
Within a few more years, Mina’s likeness is printed on posters and tarpaulins for a large-scale ballet production, and Dahyun’s name becomes more than a whisper among modern classical musicians. They aren’t revered, not yet, but they are respected—and, truth be told, it’s more than enough.
After years of being turned away and snubbed by those from on high in the social ladder, Dahyun is more than grateful for the opportunities knocking at her door—opportunities, which, eventually allowed her and Mina to move out of their dingy apartment and into a safer neighborhood.
They get a larger living space, a bed bigger than Dahyun’s old, creaky twin-size, a bathroom with a functioning shower head that doesn’t blast cold jets of water at random. The window joints aren’t fragile, giving Dahyun the freedom to open them at will.
The apartment is nice, but Mina’s company is what makes it perfect.
Empty bottles of sparkling grape juice lay forgotten on the hardwood floor, Mina dancing by her lonesome in their spacious living room with her eyes closed, feeling the music playing in the background.
Dahyun hasn’t ever had a vice before, but living with Mina over the years has made her develop one.
It’s impossible not to form a habit of watching Mina dance, when she pirouettes beautifully across the living room and with all the grace in the world.
Dahyun rolls up her sleeves and stands from where she sits cross-legged on the floor, smoothly pulling Mina into her arms after a pirouette. A smile curves at Mina’s lips, her fingertips ghosting over Dahyun’s exposed forearms, caressing the warm skin.
Breathing slowly, Dahyun presses her hands down on the small of Mina’s back, the way she would when playing the piano.
It’s comforting, having someone to call home. Having a place where her once struggling soul could be at ease.
In an instant, Mina cups Dahyun’s face to kiss her home.
Dahyun sighs softly, letting Mina know that she’s home by wrapping Mina in her arms.
“Love you,” Mina sighs out, mirroring Dahyun’s affectionate smile.
Dahyun fixes Mina’s cardigan, but not before giving in to the temptation of kissing her exposed shoulder. Mina giggles, soft and airy, a bit of a lovestruck sigh contained within, and lets Dahyun’s lips touch her ear.
“Love you, too. So much.”
(In her mid-afternoon nap, Mina shifts, snuggles close to Dahyun, soaking in the streams of disappearing sunlight. It’s nice, not having to worry about the state of their living conditions, and cuddle as much as they want.
Lazily, Dahyun plays with Mina’s hair, chest blossoming with fondness unbridled as Mina’s eyes slowly begin to crack open. Without saying anything, Mina curls into Dahyun’s lap, sighs in perfect contentment as Dahyun strokes her hair.
Life isn’t a struggle anymore.
It’s perfect.)